Make Her A Member of the Midnight Crew
by endeauchem
Summary: PM joins the Midnight Crew to avenge her husband's murder. AU


Chapter 1

The bright moon glows above the dark city, casting light upon the tiled rooftops. Long, silky gray clouds stretch across the sky, occasionally obscuring the moon's light. The still night is quiet and peaceful.

Suddenly, the shattering of a window breaks the silence, followed by a shrill ringing as an alarm goes off. Five dark figures slip by in the darkness, carefully stepping over the broken shards of glass at their feet. They move around with familiarity, as if they were the very owners of the place.

Four sets of chilling, white eyes and a pair of dark, black ones land on the safe, its vault door locked shut. With surprising speed, the shortest of them runs forward, a bomb tucked under his arm. Placing it at the foot of the door, he lights the fuse, rushing back to his crew members as they wait a safe distance behind.

Within seconds, the small thread withers away, and the bomb ignites. There is a loud explosion as chunks of concrete and metal come flying in all directions, nearly hitting the five spectators. The smoke clears away to reveal a blasted hole in the wall, the edges singed black and still burning.

The guard who had been waiting at the entrance comes running in, alerted by the explosion. He takes out his radio device, calling for backup, when a knife comes flying out of the darkness, hitting him in the back of the head and silencing him.

One of the dark figures ushers the rest forward, and they slink into the vault. Taking out their bags, they start rummaging through boxes, looting cash and valuable objects.

The familiar ringing of sirens whirs in the distance, causing the leader of the heist to cuss under his breath. They move faster, grabbing as much as they can in the short time they have left.

Satisfied with the haul, they head out, only to be stopped by a team of officers.

"Freeze!" One of them shouts, pointing his gun at them. Two officers flank his sides, barricading the exit as they keep their guns trained on the burglars.

The crew stands still, staring at the officers through narrowed eyes.

"Sir," one of the officers whispers,"they killed the guard!"

The lead officer glances to the side, his eyes landing on the still corpse on the floor, blood pooling around his head.

"Drop the bags and put your hands in the air." He orders, teeth clenched angrily.

The leader drops his bag, raising his arms slowly, as if to surrender. Something shimmers in the darkness, and before anyone can move, a card slips from his sleeve and into his hand, transforming into a gun. He aims it at the front officer and fires before his crew flicks out their cards, their eyes glinting in the darkness.

The head officer falls to the ground, his fellow cops taking aim and shooting before being reduced to a crippled pile on the floor, meeting the same fate as the previous officer.

"Let's go." One of the taller crew mates says, his voice slightly raspy. They pick up their bags, ready to hit the road when they are interrupted once more by a flurry of bullets.

They duck, looking up to see that a backup force has arrived, and are now streaming into the building.

The crew mates glance at each other through narrowed eyes before separating, running straight into conflict with weapons ready and equipped. Bullets fly through the air, the building full of the sounds of ringing, shooting, and yelling. The crew fights on, attacking violently and mercilessly.

Among the dark-shelled members of the crew is a Prospitarian, her white shell speckled with crimson. With gracefulness, she fights with a handgun in one hand and a knife in the other, slicing cops open and shooting others down.

She grimaces as a bullet nicks her shoulder, grabbing on to it as pain pierces through her body. Suddenly, someone strangles her from behind, and she delivers a well-aimed blow to his stomach with her elbow. The man grunts, his grip loosening momentarily, allowing her to grab his arm and throw him over her shoulder. She lets out a gasp of pain at the effort as he slams into the ground, the sound of a carapace cracking splitting through the air.

She sets her foot over his throat, pointing her gun at him and about to pull the trigger when their gazes meet. She hesitates, her eyes widening and her mouth slightly agape.

Recognition sparks on the man's face. He narrows his eyes in confusion and shock as he chokes out, "PM?"

She stares at him, her mind stilling as memories resurface, threatening to spill over with the tears she hadn't known had gathered.

"C'mon, pidge, we got to go!" Someone calls her from behind, and she snaps back into reality.

She stares at the man for a few seconds longer, her heart thudding in her ears as tears blur the edges of her vision. She removes her foot, turning around quickly before running after the rest of the crew. She escapes through the broken window, her feet hitting the pavement roughly as she sprints after them. She doesn't look back, leaving the pile of bodies and the man behind.

* * *

The Postal Messenger walks up the sidewalk, going up the small hill that led to Crescent Avenue. She passes under a dimly lit streetlamp, casting a long, dark shadow across the splash of light on the gritty road. A trash can rattles nearby, and she picks up the pace, her breath quickening.

She was on one of her daily routes, delivering mail to the occupants of Midnight City. She had just finished her last delivery and was heading home, fortunate enough to get back in one piece.

Usually, when she was downtown, there was always the risk of petty thieves attacking her for her parcels, most of which times contained harmless and worthless objects. Not only that, but gangs lurked in every corner, just waiting to spring out on their next target. Then, of course, there were the gunshots, the sound of doors slamming echoing up the streets, the stray scream cut short.

She hates this city, but there's nothing else.

PM arrives at her apartment, inserting the keys into the lock and twisting. The door swings open, and she is greeted by a cloud of smoke and a persistent beeping. She can hear coughing inside, and, alarmed, she hangs her hat and bag on the hooks by the door before heading into the kitchen.

The smoke starts clearing away, revealing a stocky Dersite swatting around the air rapidly. When the kitchen is finally clear of smoke, he stands still, staring at the stove.

PM looks at him with concern. "What-" She begins, before her eyes land on the stovetop. Sitting in a tray is a charred rock of an unidentifiable substance, which she presumes was once something resembling food. She stares at it for a few seconds before stifling a laugh, her shoulders shaking as she turns to the Dersite. His eyebrows are furrowed as he stares at the rock, his face perplexed and confused.

"I was going to make dinner…" he trails off, his face grim.

Suddenly, she can't hold it in any longer and she bursts out laughing, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. It's just his face, the startled confusion, and her rushing in thinking he had set the place on fire.

He stares back at her, narrowing his eyes.

Afraid she's offended him, she wipes away her tears before smiling, "Sorry, AR. I appreciate you trying, I really do."

He offers her a weak smile, turning towards the abomination on the stove. They look at each other again before bursting into laughter once more.

"Let's have some pizza instead." She smiles, heading toward the freezer.

AR follows her, snatching a beer from the fridge before settling down on the couch, popping it open and taking a sip.

PM places the pizza in the oven before setting the timer, sitting beside him on the sofa.

"How was work?" He asks, placing his hand upon hers.

She grins. "I handled sixteen streets today. How about you?"

"We got another lead on the Gentle Florist case." He tells her, taking another sip.

PM's smile fades, sadness darkening her gaze. About a week ago, a body had been found downtown, stuffed into a dumpster like garbage. She was a young, healthy woman, probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time. For days, there were no leads on the case, no fingerprints, no suspects. Though it's good news they've finally found something, the horribleness of it all always manages to bring her mood down.

The Austere Ranger let's out a sigh, staring down at the floor. "It's not much, though. They're thinking of closing the case and letting it go."

The cheery mood is gone, replaced with a dull silence that stretches between them.

They sit quietly for a minute until AR says abruptly, " I'll fix this town one day, you know."

PM turns to him, staring at him intently.

"I'll get rid of all the gangs and violence, I promise." He tells her, his face serious.

She stares back at him, holding his hand tightly. "I know." She says softly, leaning in to plant a small kiss on his lips as she shuts her eyes. "I know."

She trusts him. She knows he'll be the one to change this city one day. His devotion to his job and the city assures her of this. But for now, they have to keep fighting, pushing on and surviving each day with determination. Even if life in Midnight City is dangerous and horrible, she still has AR, and that's all that matters.


End file.
